Halo: Shadows in the Dark
by Infamous Anh
Summary: Potowski is an ex-ODST; SPARTAN-013 lost his partner. When ONI puts them together on a covert mission, neither welcomes the partnership. However, this last suicidal task could be just what they needed to come to term with their tragic pasts.
1. Prologue

**0630 HOUR, APRIL 30, 2530(MILITARY CALENDAR)**

**ERIDANUS SYSTEM, PLANET ERIDANUS II**

The day carried a morbid anticipation, much like it normally did on the dawn of a dangerous, almost suicidal mission. Below the soft vibration of the pelican floor, the tropical forest remained obliviously peaceful, yet untouched by the grisly hand of this lopsided war. Before long, the gossamer veil of that calm serenity would be torn, quickly and cruelly, by the might of the Covenant; all too soon it would be nothing but another glassed wasteland, another colony lost. SPARTAN-013 had seen it done before: the planets always began beautiful and diverse, but it seemed in only a blink of an eye that they had to retreat and watch as planet after planet became the same glassed souvenir. The SPARTAN tensed as anger flared deep within his chest, knowing the doomed fate of this world, but the feeling was weak—he had become too accustomed to the emotion for it to take control like it wanted to do.

"Cheer up SPARTAN! This one is going to go differently, you'll see!" SPARTAN-013 couldn't decide which was more surprising: that this person seemed to read his mind, or that a normal, non-augmented human would approach him in the first place. At over seven feet tall and with enough muscle to easily crush a human skull, most soldiers gave him wide berth. Of course, there was occasionally one or two who would gather the courage to introduce themselves, but the conversation never lingered far past that. Curiosity won out, and the Spartan turned with what he hoped was normal human speed to identify today's entity of courage.

An ODST stood at a diagonal from him, not far behind him garbed in the standard armor; the uniform always made it difficult to perceive gender, but from the feminine quality of the voice, it became obvious that it was a "she". He stared at her questioningly, though all she would see is her orange tinged reflection in his visor. She gave a short laugh, as if she could actually see his puzzled look.

"What? You think that your thoughts are perfectly safe hidden behind that helmet of yours? Think again, sir, your body language betrays you!" She paused, apparently amused with her adeptness at reading his thoughts. A small frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he tried to establish what about his posture gave him away, yet it was like his mind hit a blank wall. He regarded the girl closely, trying to pick up on whether she could actually read him, or if she had just made a few lucky guesses. After a brief moment, he finally sighed in defeat.

"And how would I be doing that?" he inquired reluctantly.

"Well, to start with, your grasp on the side of the pelican is making a very impressive dent. I think you have successfully mangled the metal." From the tone of her voice, he could imagine a cocky smile upon her obscured face. He glanced toward the hand that grasped the outer edge of the pelican, the metal crushed under his clenched fist. Strange, he couldn't recall grabbing the metal, much less clenching his fists. Perhaps his anger still had more of a hold over him than he had previously acknowledged. He gingerly released the edge of the doorway and stared at the indentation he had unwittingly made; however, the ODST wasn't quite done with her analysis.

"I figure," she mused contemplatively, "that this either means that you're scared or angry. The words 'scared' and 'SPARTAN' don't go together, so it must be anger. What would you be angry about? Well, either you can't control your anger toward the Covenant for putting us in this position in the first place—which is plausible, but not probable if the rumors that you are all well trained battle machines are to be believed—so it has to be that you're pessimistic about this current mission." She nodded solemnly, as if to emphasize her point. SPARTAN-013 could only stare at her in astonishment as she methodically dissected his thoughts just through his one, involuntary action. Before he could utter a response, the Lieutenant's voice came over the intercom.

"Tell me boys and girls, how will you leave?"

"WE GO FEET FIRST, SIR!" all the ODSTs yelled in unison, SPARTAN-013 didn't move from his inquisitive stare as his "companion" diverted her attention to the officer's voice.

"Good, we will be landing in approximately five minutes, you know the drill. We're going to make those aliens bastards regret ever messing with the UNSC. Remember, we will be on our own out there, our pet freak has a different task to occupy his time," SPARTAN-013 zoned out through the rest of the pep talk and returned his gaze to the gradually approaching land beneath him. The ODST's enmity toward the SPARTANs started back when a couple of the so called "Helljumpers" were used to train the young SPARTANs. Unfortunately, things did not go well for the ODSTs, a few dead, a few in critical condition; that branch of the marines never liked the SPARTANs ever since. The pelican gracefully glided down to their landing zone, bringing Spartan-013 back to the present.

"All right marines! It's show time. Go, go, go!" The sound of the Lieutenant's voice came closer behind the SPARTAN than he expected; at some point the officer had come into the back without alerting the SPARTAN. He mentally scolded himself; he had to pay better attention! They may seem safe now, but the Covenant may be hiding around any corner.

The ODSTs jumped down from the pelican in an orderly frenzy, each eager for their mission. His little companion was one of the last to leave the aircraft, and as the pelican began to ascend, she quickly spun about and sent him a sloppy salute. "See you later, sir!" she hollered to him, and ran off to join the rest of her squad; SPARTAN-013 locked his gaze on her until she fell out of sight. With another sad sigh, he turned away from the door and strode further inside the pelican to wait for his own drop off point. Deep inside, he knew he would never see her again.


	2. Chapter One

**0652 HOUR, FEBRUARY 2, 2539(MILITARY CALENDAR)**

**ERIDANUS SYSTEM, PLANET ERIDANUS II**

Morning already—or at least it felt like morning, though it was hard to tell in space. Either way, her mind told her that it was past time to get up, despite feeling like she had just gone to sleep. Indeed, last night had been a long, busy night for her. She scrubbed and cleaned until the insides of her ship gleamed, a tedious task since it seemed it had not seen a thorough bath since its previous owner. Now, it looked brand new and spotless; she knew the officers would be impressed. Andrea jolted awake from her semiconscious state. Oh God! She almost forgot her meeting with ONI! She scrambled hastily out of bed, her eyes automatically looked toward the hanger she left her dress clothes on, but—to her own shock—they weren't there! She froze, the color slowly drained from her face. To conserve water, she always slept naked—it reduced the amount of laundry that needed washed; since no other human lived on the ship with her, it usually wasn't a problem. However, it would be mortifying enough to arrive to a top-secret ONI meeting in a set of pajamas, but to walk in stark naked? She couldn't even imagine the humiliation!

"Bryn," she half shouted, half growled. The electronic voice of the AI answered her with a short bark of near-maniacal laughter; it left no doubt who the culprit was. For once, Andrea felt relieved that no one else occupied her lonely little home on the ship; surely they would look at her now as if she were crazy. Blaming an AI for her misplaced clothes? It seemed absurd; a normal AI functioned to help the ship run smoothly, not to hinder the personal agendas of the staff. Bryn, however, had long past what would be regarded as a "sane" AI. When Andrea obtained her, she had been three and in peak condition, six years had passed since that time, and now there was no question toward Bryn's rampancy. Yet, she couldn't bear disposing of the machine, no matter how bothersome its rampant state might be; she was far too emotionally attached to the corrupted thing.

"Don't worry, Ma'am," Bryn put an extra mocking emphasis on the title, "I merely had Hits transport your clothes to the laundry room to make sure they were fully cleansed." The reason sounded valid, except she had already washed and ironed her clothes the day before.

"This isn't the time for games, Bryn! Don't you remember my meeting with ONI today?" Andrea snapped with an exasperated edge on her voice. She ran to the door, but hesitated, "They aren't here yet, are they?" She asked in a little voice.

"No, no, no!" The AI sounded irritated by the presumption, "You could make it if you hurry." She sniffed, not happy to be addressed in such a blunt manner. Andrea disregarded the AI's vexation for the optimism that bloomed in her chest—she could still make it! Her door slid open with a muted hiss, and she dashed out toward the laundry room; only too late did she notice the other door open, and two ONI spooks step in.

"Whoops! I miscalculated. I suppose you aren't quite fast enough, a shame, I'm sure." Bryn admitted demurely, a sadistic satisfaction in her voice. Damn rampancy! Andrea didn't know what to do, so she went with the first plan that came to mind—she jumped behind cover. Regardless, there could be no doubt; the officers caught a glimpse of her naked body. Her face immediately felt warm, and she took a deep breath to calm herself before she poked her head out from her hiding spot.

"A little privacy, please?" Her voice sounded more like a demand than a request, and she knew that wouldn't make them any happier, their eyes already narrowed in disapproval. However, they didn't say a word as they politely averted their eyes to allow her to hastily scamper into the laundry room. The doors whooshed closed and Andrea rushed to her clothes, pulling them on as fast as she could with her hard, jerking movements. By time she left the small room a few minutes later, she looked prim and proper as she should, not even a blush to show the previous incident even occurred. She marched confidently up to the officers and snapped into a brisk salute.

"Lieutenant Commander Sevir! Major Kern! Welcome aboard, sirs!" Both spooks appraised her with critical eyes, and let her remain frozen in place for a few minutes before one of them finally addressed her.

"Miss Potowski, I'm disappointed. I would expect a former ODST to be more prepared than that. What excuse could you possibly have for such unacceptable behavior?" Major Kern scolded; the Commander kept his unnerving gaze locked on her, as if waiting for her to step out of line yet again.

"Sir, I have no excuse, sir!" She replied promptly. What else could she say? The spooks would definitely not accept the excuse of her AI persuading her friend to relocate her chosen wardrobe; she didn't want the ONI discovering the existence of this particular friend in the first place! The officers regarded her again, and, either deciding she was ready to behave or tired of waiting for her to mess up again, they resumed to business.

"At ease," Major Kern dismissed, obviously the speaker of the two, "Let's get this started, shall we?" She dropped her salute, and showed the Major and Lieutenant Commander to their seats at the same table she previously ducked behind—thank goodness she decided to put a table cloth on it! After they both took their seats, she made her way to her own, obviously curious for what that had to say; after all, they opted to meet in her ship, not in the privacy of their well-guarded headquarters, which was unusual, to say the least. As she sat down, Commander Sevir pulled a small, cube-shaped device out of his pocket, pressed the only button upon, and it set it down gently on her table. Like a bubble shield, an intangible barrier expanded around the group; the former marine couldn't help but stare at it inquisitively.

"It prevents eavesdroppers," Lieutenant Commander Sevir explained, a proud smirk on his lips despite the annoyance on his voice, "No one can listen in, but no one can hear out of it either." Andrea nodded, still fascinated by the object when Major Kern decided to press on with the meeting.

"We have reviewed your record, and it appears you have lost everyone in this war—such a pity! Your family glassed with Eridanus II; your fellow squad mates and reportedly close friends killed in action on your last mission as an ODST—our reports also state that you take up solitary residence on this ship. Is this true, Miss Potowski?" The former marine grimaced as the Major's words probed a sorrow deep within her, one that she suspected long ago hardened. 2530 had been a rough year; barely after she left her home world for service she learned that the Covenant glassed the planet. Her mother, her father, her siblings—all gone. She lingered on the brink of nineteen, and already all she had left was her squad: Hillary, Jessie, Darren, and Evan. They had been close friends in high school, and luck drew them together in combat; up until their final mission in 2535, they had been highly successful, also. Four years passed from the day the Covenant stole the lives of her friends, and she thought her heart had steeled itself against the intolerable ache—obviously the Major's insensitive report proved her wrong.

"Your report is accurate." She confirmed solemnly with a slight nod. What did it matter that her family and friends died? What did it matter that she lived alone with only her AI—and her secret friend—for company? Many families witnessed trauma that no one should have to due to this stupid war, many people were left with only their possessions for comfort. The Office of Naval Intelligence should take no interest in just another tale of woe. Why had the spooks come? The shadows of a smile crept up on the Major's lips, as if she had given him the only good news he had heard in a long time; Andrea instantly despised him.

"Very well, then, consider yourself enlisted. You have been selected as the first recruit of Operation SILENT COURIER; due to your prior ODST record, I'm sure you will have no problems with the mission. Your goals? Spy on the Covenant, gather as much information on them as possible—humanity needs an advantage in this war, one that we hope you will provide us with. We partnered you with one of our associates to aid you on this mission, he will make sure that you do your duties and don't get caught. Commander Sevir, would you be so kind as to invite our guest in?" Andrea stared in shock at the ONI officers as Sevir left the privacy bubble—both elated and suspicious as the same time. On one side of the spectrum, she waited forever to be reassigned, even this suicidal mission felt welcome; it was better than looking in from the outside, wishing she could help. However, after the demise of her squad, she had been deemed mentally unfit for active duty—forced into retirement. The spontaneous contact from ONI got her wondering; that particular office didn't give much thought for the moral rights and wrongs of humanity, it wouldn't surprise her if she had been fit for combat all along despite what those evaluations deemed her. Whether or not they tampered with her records, she had her mission now, something more important to focus on—such as her so-called "partner" for instance.

She worked well enough alone when it came to stealth, she figured that anyone else would hinder her progress more than they would help, yet it had been so long since she shared quarters with another human, the promise of company excited her. At some point during her silent mulling, Major Kern must have disabled the anti- eavesdropper shield, for the hiss of the ship doors distracted her from her thoughts; her eyes were automatically drawn, not to the Commander, but to the large figure towering above him.

"Oh goody! My very own wind-up toy!" She exclaimed sarcastically, "I could only hope that he comes equipped with camouflage, that massive height of his could easily get us exposed if he doesn't know how to hide himself!" Her words were directed to the officers, yet her eyes never left the SPARTAN. He didn't so much as twitch in response to her harsh words, she couldn't even see him breathe under all that thick armor—it would be easy to mistake him for a statue. A strict frown pulled down the corners of the spooks' mouths, but that was the only indication they gave that they heard what she said.

"Miss Potowski, this is SPARTAN-013, he will be your partner from now on unless we deem it otherwise." Lieutenant Commander Sevir announced casually. Andrea opened her mouth to speak, but paused before a single word could be spoken as she realized how unprepared she was for this surprise visitor.

"Hmm, if I may be excused, sirs, I would like to clear out a room for him." She requested; the spooks exchanged looks before they finally consented. She cast them a final salute before she marched off to find space for her massive partner. SPARTAN-013 quietly watched her go before the ONI officer's voice snatched his attention back. He faced Commander Sevir, the Major already having left the ship.

"Keep a close eye on her, SPARTAN. We have our reasons to believe that she may affiliate herself to the Eridanus rebels. Our records already show that she comes from the Eridanus system, and now that we have confirmed that she possesses a Mako-class Corvette—a popular ship among the rebels—our suspicion is stronger than ever. Even if she wasn't one before, she has faced enough trauma in this war to effectively change her mind—if she gives any signs at all that she will turn traitorous against us, eliminate her."

"Sir, yes sir." SPARTAN-013 saluted the officer as the spook made his own exit. By time that Andrea returned to the deck, only the SPARTAN awaited her.


	3. Chapter Two

_**1200 HOURS, AUGUST 15, 2532 (MILITARY CALENDAR)**_

_The branch that served as her perch protested with a soft creak as she leaned forward, her eyes glued to the scope of her sniper rifle. With careful precision, she lined the crosshairs over the white-armored elite as he obliviously conversed with his purple-armored companion. A single pull of the trigger and the alien bastard would tumble to the ground, the thought thrilled her with a sick satisfaction. To hold the enemy's life in her hands...she felt so empowered. _

_Her mind dared her to pull the trigger, yearned for the crack of the rifle that would ends its life. Yet, for survival and for orders, she restrained herself. The crack of the shot and the trail of smoke would alert the enemies to her position, and with their more advanced weapons and greater numbers, they would make short work of the little scout. Plus, elimination of the enemy fell to Sergeant Petrucci and Sergeant Perez—they had a knack for decimation and destruction. _

_"Corporal? Report. What's out there?" Sergeant Major Kuhl's voice came over the COMM and provided an apt distraction for the murderous turn in Corporal Potowski's thoughts._

_"Wish I could give you good news, Hillary, but it seems that we picked a bad place to drop into; this place is swarmed with Covenant! Fortunately, they seem unaware of our presence, we may be able to sneak past and accomplish our mission if we stick to stealth. Might need to put a muzzle on Darren and Evan though; even with the silencers on their guns, their mouths might land us in trouble."_

_The Sergeant Major laughed, and for a small moment Corporal Potowski had her friend Hillary back—the once happy-go-lucky girl sobered by the responsibility of war. However, it was a fleeting moment. Just as quickly as the lighthearted laughter started, it was abruptly clipped and replaced by the professional words of an officer._

"_Roger that. I'll relay the message, a job well done Corporal. Head back to camp as quickly and as safely as possible." The COMM clicked off and Andrea silently scrambled down from her perch, careful not to alert the elites to her presence, and began her trek back to the ODST squad's makeshift camp. The journey went as smoothly coming as it had been going until—POP! Whatever stealth she managed to conjure in her progression back to camp was immediately disrupted in her dive for cover. Over head, birds evacuated above the canopy, an ominous smoke rising among the tops of the trees._

"_Corporal Pletcher? Are you there?" Hillary's frantic voice came on the COMM, and the words caused the blood to drain from Andrea's face—JESSIE!_

**1725 HOURS, FEBRUARY 12, 2539 (MILITARY CALENDAR)**

**EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM, IN ORBIT ABOVE PLANET REACH**

"Miss Potowski? Can you hear me? Wake up!"

Whose voice was that? Were those hands on her shoulders? No, it was impossible, she lived alone with Bryn and Hits—she must be dreaming. She exhaled, and her body relaxed with the small gesture; time to wake up then. She sat up and rubbed her eyes groggily before she finally opened her eyes...and saw _it_. A shriek managed to escape her, her hand automatically drawn back to swat at whatever it was; however, her hand never managed to make contact. Quicker than humanly possible, its hand darted out to grasp her wrist into its firm grip—only then did the memory come back to her. The meeting with ONI, her SPARTAN partner. When her stance relaxed again, the SPARTAN dropped her now-limp arm and watched it fall into her lap.

"I'm sorry, you startled me. I guess I haven't adjusted to living with another quite yet." Andrea paused, before another thought struck her. "What are you doing in my room standing over me anyway? Didn't I tell you to keep out?" Her anger flared as she snapped at her forced partner—after all, super soldier or not, rules were rules. Weren't SPARTANS supposed to be obedient? The SPARTAN didn't flinch at her harsh tone as he proceeded to explain in the usual, professional manner prevalent in all SPARTANs.

"Excuse me, but if I'm not mistaken this is the observation deck, not your sleeping quarters. Also, you appeared to be suffering a fit of night terrors. As your partner, I am expected to keep you safe; I was only trying to do my duty." Oh. Right. Andrea glanced around the observation deck, as if stunned that she had fallen asleep there in the first place.

"Well, thank you SPARTAN, but I assure you that I do not need protection. I'm quite capable of surviving on my own, or else I wouldn't be here, would I?" she snipped, a bit irritated by her own foolishness. The SPARTAN hovered, his emotions successfully hidden by his armor. Yet, as he turned to leave, Andrea knew she couldn't let this impromptu meeting end on a bad note. "Wait," she called after him. He abruptly froze at the command, too well trained to ignore an order. He peered over his shoulder to indicate that she had his attention. She deftly hopped to her feet and jogged over to her prodigious partner—she felt dwarfed next to the titan, the top of her head barely reached the top of his chest. "I'm sorry...again. I suppose after so long with no human contact, I've become a little short tempered."

"Miss Potowski has always shown a rather explosive temperament; these aggressive inhibitions meet the symptoms of night terrors. However, such behavior should not be condoned between fellow UNSC members. Suggested prognosis: euthanasia." Bryn quipped in with her cheerful demeanor. The SPARTANs attention diverted to the holographic image of the AI, surprised to hear such words come out of her mouth. Bryn threw him a wink before she disappeared from view. Andrea frowned at the air Bryn once occupied.

"Don't listen to her, she's rampant." She explained quickly to the SPARTAN, "Anyway, do you have a name I could call you? It's hard to believe that SPARTAN-013 is your only name."

"I prefer SPARTAN-013." He stated simply. Andrea let a tiny frown linger on her lips, before her trademark smirk resumed its residency upon her face.

"All right then, Thirteen it is. It's a lot shorter than SPARTAN-013 anyway. So, what's up with your armor? I thought that all SPARTANs had the standard green MJOLNIR armor?" A question that had plagued her since the SPARTAN's arrival—Thirteen's armor was gray and more rounded than the standard. Even the visor held a slight figure-eight like pattern and looked bug-eyed.

"Why does it matter what the armor is called as long as it suits its function?" He asked, his back still to the former marine.

"And why won't you just answer my question? We're partners now, and I for one would feel a bit better about this fact if I actually knew something, _anything_ about you. Name?"

"SPARTAN Zero-One-Three."

"And your armor, Thirteen?" She purposely ignored his emphasis on each individual number. His fist lightly clenched—perhaps bothered by her informality—but soon relaxed as he answered the next question.

"Mark V(m) MJOLNIR Powered Assault Armor," he replied promptly, his voice tensed. Andrea nodded, at least satisfied by the little amount of information that she managed to secede from his vault of privacy. She dismissed the SPARTAN with a small nod, her attention fully diverted to the mission ahead of them. The hiss of the ship doors announced SPARTAN-013's exit, and Andrea turned to the AI.

"Euthanasia, Bryn?" Instantly, the avatar of a young woman flickered to life in the holotank. Unlike her blithe interactions with the SPARTAN, Bryn glowered at Andrea, her arms crossed in annoyance.

"I still believe it would be the most prudent option. No responsible officer would leave a huge security breach—such as an AI, for instance—adrift in space for a year! The UNSC should eliminate all flakes in their program before one leaves them in 'deep shit' as your male companions used to say." Andrea glared back, unperturbed by Bryn's harsh opinion. A long moment passed as the human and AI stared each other down before she finally responded to the artificial intelligence.

"I've said it, and will say it again. I didn't have much choice! I couldn't alert command, it would have put Hits in danger. Perhaps my comrades would have received you, except a little concept known as death got in the way. If I didn't worry about Hits' safety, then the military command would have found and repossessed you, and you would be dead now, too. Would that make you happy?" Bryn softened, obviously affected by Agent Potowski's words.

SPARTAN-013 lingered outside the door, his hand hovering over the key pad. Despite his orders to keep a close eye on Agent Potowski, he hadn't meant to eavesdrop. With that excess of information swimming through his head though, the SPARTAN fully understood ONI's suspicion of the former ODST. Though he restricted himself from jumping to conclusions, he made a mental note of 'Hits'. After all, what would a man have to fear about military command unless they openly opposed the UNSC? The whole situation stunk of insurrectionist.

"Incoming transmission from ONI," Bryn alerted professionally.

SPARTAN-013 rapidly tapped in the entrance code, and strode up beside his partner as Lieutenant Commander Sevir's face appeared screen. Agent Potowski seemed ignorant of his presence as they snapped into simultaneous salutes.

"Agent Potowski, SPARTAN-013, at ease." The two fell into parade rest, yet SPARTAN-013 noticed that Potowski seemed tensed even at this more relaxed stance. "You have been assigned to patrol the space around the planet Pegasi Delta. There has been an increase of Covenant activity in that area, and we need to know what they are up to. I am transmitting the Slipspace co-ordinates to your ship's AI, keep in mind that you will arrive a little ways out from the planet to reduce the chance of being detected while reentering normal space. Keep your heads low and send weekly reports about what you have discovered. If they take notice of your presence, don't forget the Cole Protocol. That is all, Lieutenant Commander Sevir out."

An awkward silence muted the room as the transmission ended, and SPARTAN-013 couldn't help but feel uneasy in the room's almost tangible tension. Andrea turned to SPARTAN-013, her face unreadable as she addressed him "I'll take care of the navigation, Thirteen. You just sit back, make yourself comfortable, and enjoy your cruise upon the _Hermes' Plight_!"


	4. Chapter Three

**0023 HOURS, JANUARY 30, 2539 (MILITARY CALENDAR)**

**EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM, ONI MEDICAL FACILITY**

**IN ORBIT ABOVE PLANET REACH**

_Only pain accompanied SPARTAN-013 into the depths of the blind and deaf world of semi-consciousness. Mercilessly, it punished every muscle twitch with a sharp lash of agony; there was no doubt that a normal man would writhe and scream in protest to such cruelty. Yet, SPARTAN-013 found comfort in the sensation; the pain meant that he was still alive. Too many of his fellow soldiers could no longer awaken into this mental limbo. However, despite the comfort that this lethargic_ _state lent him, a familiar urgency pushed the SPARTAN to awaken. He strained against the heavy weight of unconsciousness, eager to return to the fight._

_ "Commander, he's stirring!" a foreign voice called out with relief and an almost inaudible tremble of anxiety. Even in the vulnerable state of hospitalization, the massive size of the SPARTANs still managed to elicit fear from their own caretakers. SPARTAN-013 slowly propped himself up, his eyes easily adjusting the dim lighting of the room. Then, unceremoniously, he began to yank the multitude of tubes out of his arms._

_ "Don't do that!" that doctor cried out in horror; SPARTAN-013 hastily shifted his gaze to the medical staff, whom had started toward the super soldier only to be restrained by a lightly placed hand on the shoulder. Behind the doctor, a Lieutenant Commander stood adorned in uniform with his rank blatantly displayed on his shoulder. SPARTAN-013 swiftly hoisted himself to his feet and snapped into a brisk salute._

_ "Lieutenant Commander, sir!" The SPARTAN greeted in the impeccable military fashion. The Lieutenant Commander cast an approving smile at the super soldier._

_ "At ease, SPARTAN. Doctor, would you mind giving us a bit of privacy?" 013 fell into parade rest and watched curiously as the doctor hesitated._

_ "Very well Commander," the man concurred, and made a quick exit from the room with a last, worried glance toward his patient. A moment of silence lingered before the officer addressed the SPARTAN again._

_ "I hope you have recovered well, SPARTAN-013, because I have another task lined up for you. I am Lieutenant Commander Sevir, and I have come here on behalf of the Office of Naval Intelligence." He paused, and cast an intrigued gaze at the SPARTAN. Not many people ever witnessed a SPARTAN soldier without his MJOLNIR armor. If they looked alien in their gear, SPARTAN-013 had to wonder what the few who had seen the super soldiers without their armor must think. Like his fellow SPARTANs, 013 had ghostly pale skin; however, the eerily light pigment of his skin was greatly contrasted by the dark brown color of his hair and eyes. Even though he wore the garment hospital's usually supplied to their patients, 013 still felt naked without his MJOLNIR suit. The Lieutenant Commander, done with his silent assessment of the SPARTAN, continued his little speech._

_ "I have been watching you for these last few missions, and have determined you to be the best candidate for Operation SILENT COURIER. You, and your assigned partner, have a few simple tasks: spy on the Covenant, report your findings back to me, and don't get caught. ONI hopes that this mission could provide vital information that would turn the tables of this war and I have full confidence that you would not fail us. Any questions?"_

_ "Just one, sir," SPARTAN-013 began, "Spartan-042—?"_

_ "MIA," Sevir answered promptly; SPARTAN-013 nodded numbly. Though the term "MIA" usually meant "missing-in-action", when applied to SPARTANs, it earned a whole different meaning. When the Office of Naval Intelligence announced the presence of the SPARTAN program to the world, they claimed that the SPARTANs were invincible to boost humanity's moral. So, even when one of the super soldiers was killed in action, they were always listed as MIA. The nonchalance of the officer's face gave away nothing, but SPARTAN-013 severely doubted that his closest friend survived._

**1701 HOURS, FEBRUARY 26, 2539 (MILITARY CALENDAR)**

**51 PEGASI-B SYSTEM, IN ORBIT ABOVE PLANET PEGASI DELTA**

The soft hiss of the cryotube door as it unlatched abruptly woke SPARTAN-013 from his sleep; he waited patiently for the door to finish its ascent until he heard it click into place above him. The cool mist overflowed from the cryotube and clung to the SPARTAN's armor as he gracefully stepped out, ready and eager to begin this new mission.

"I can't say I approve of your cryo-chamber habits, your armor must leave a nasty case of freezer burn," Bryn's contempt startled the SPARTAN, yet when he snapped around to face the hologram, her posture appeared free from any sign of discontent. SPARTAN-013 waited patiently as she continued her message, "We are currently in orbit above our destination and, for the moment at least, remain undetected. Potowski has planned a covert mission to the surface to investigate the prevalence of surface activity, and asks you to meet her in the hangar once you have finished your preparations."

"Affirmative," SPARTAN-013 nodded and set course for the ship's meager armory. Mako-class Corvettes weren't known for their size, so they had to limit the arsenal to just the necessities; yet as 013 scanned over the various weapons, he felt assured by the available selection of guns at their disposal. He quickly noted the empty spaces where a sniper rifle and pistol once occupied as he grabbed the second sniper rifle, a battle rifle, two frag grenades, and an adequate amount of ammo before he sped off toward the hanger. It, like the rest of the ship, was only modest in size; not even large enough to accommodate a single pelican. Instead, what looked like a modified SKT-13 Shuttlecraft rested in the limited space; accompanied only by the couple of SOEIVs against the opposite wall, though neither mode of transportation ensured a way back into the ship.

"Worried about something, Thirteen?" Potowski strode up beside him, almost unrecognizable in her ODST armor.

"Bryn informed me that you planned to go groundside?"

"You're worried that we won't be able to make a round trip, eh?" She stated smugly; SPARTAN-013 instantly felt the eerie sensation of déjà vu.

"What would make you think that?" He asked evenly as he tried to recall what seemed so familiar about this situation. She hesitated, as if contemplating how to respond to that. Finally, she shook her head and murmured, "It doesn't matter."

Decisive not to press the clearly uncomfortable issue, SPARTAN-013 returned to their original subject, "So, how do you plan to get back to the _Hermes' Plight_, exactly?"

Potowski regained her composure, marched up to the shuttlecraft, and pat it fondly as she began, "You see, this baby here is all we need. Under normal circumstances, the SKT-13 wouldn't have the armor to penetrate atmosphere; however, I literally don't have much room to work with. With this in mind, I had it refitted with tougher armor and upgraded the engine to ensure that it could make multiple round trips." She paused and stared expectantly at SPARTAN-013, yet he kept silent, and eventually she let her hand drop from the Shuttlecraft and sighed, "You know, Thirteen, we're never going to get anything done if we keep doubting each other. I know that I didn't give you the warmest of welcomes, and I suspect that you may resent being stuck with an ODST instead of one of your fellow SPARTANs, but—as much as I distrust the spooks—I don't think they would have chosen us if they thought either of us were incapable of performing this duty. We don't have to be friends, but how about a truce?"

Potowski then offered out her hand to the SPARTAN, and without hesitation he grasped it, his hand dwarfing hers as he muttered "Truce."


End file.
